


A Working Lunch

by Crazy_Dumpling



Category: British Actor RPF, Doctor Who RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-02
Updated: 2010-08-02
Packaged: 2017-10-10 22:09:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/104866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazy_Dumpling/pseuds/Crazy_Dumpling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lunch break, and an improper use of the Tardis console.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Working Lunch

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 'learning lines' prompt at Porn Battle X.

"_Get off me._ This isn't comfortable, Matt! Maybe your girlfriend likes it kinky, but I'd like it if we could actually use a bed sometimes. And, you know, somewhere with fewer gears and levers sticking in my arse."

"What's wrong with where we are now?" Matt asks, all studied nonchalance. He's got Arthur pinned against the Tardis console, much to Arthur's apparent dismay. He thinks Arthur's just being difficult, really. He hadn't minded when Matt had sucked him off in the wardrobe when they were doing _Swimming With Sharks_, or when he'd had Arthur up against the cold wall of his flat the day Arthur had told him about getting his _Who_ role, or when they'd shagged properly in Matt's trailer, Arthur holding on to Matt's braces as he came (Karen told them later that she'd seen the trailer rocking, but that was probably an exaggeration, although Matt's more than happy to see that as a reflection on his shagging prowess). "I think it suits us! Ok, maybe the nice ladies in costume won't like it if you rip my shirt again, but I don't see what the problem is! It'll just be a nice quickie, won't it? Everyone's at lunch; I mean, they probably think we're learning lines together or rehearsing or whatever."

"Oh yeah?" Arthur's chin comes up, and now his glare is too close to being Rory's. "You remember that hickey you left the last time? Heatherwhatsherface, girl from makeup? She didn't stop laughing the whole time I was in the bloody chair! She acted like I was fifteen and been caught sneaking round the bike sheds with some girl. And then that time you tied me up with the braces and forgot to let me go after you'd had your sordid way -"

"Which, I think, you enjoyed too," Matt interjects, his arms circling Arthur's hips. "Unless you saying 'Oh God' about a thousand times actually means you were petitioning a deity."

Arthur colours, beautifully. He doesn't push Matt away.

"So, we're learning lines," Matt says, a wicked grin curving his lips. He leans forward and draws a line along Arthur's collarbone with his tongue, earning him a desperate sounding groan. "You need some help with your - ah - your… your…"

"Technical terms," Arthur tells him, his hand working its way down the front of Matt's trousers, cupping him through the tweedy material. "Tongue-twisters, you know; all that alien stuff. I need your learned pronunciation."

They kiss messily, all open, hungry mouths and battling tongues, and Matt thinks there is a distinct possibility that the art department will kill him for breaking the Tardis console because Arthur just looks so fuckable like this. His mouth is open, his cheeks flushing nicely and his neck is wonderfully exposed for biting, but Matt restrains himself, because there's no point having Steven berate him for leaving visible marks on Arthur again.

Then Arthur bucks his hips up against him, their erections rubbing together, and Matt thinks that he's just had about enough of trying to be nice and polite about things. He spins Arthur around and bends him over the console display, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of Arthur's neck. There's an answering growl from below him and a hand clamps itself to his hip.

It isn't pretty, but they get belts and trousers off before Matt starts rubbing himself against Arthur in jerky, desperate movements. He gets a hand on Arthur's cock and strokes him in time, pressing kisses to every bit of exposed flesh he can reach. They don't bother being quiet (everyone's supposed to be at lunch anyway) and Arthur moans loudly when he comes, his spunk coating Matt's pumping fist. Matt follows him quickly, pushing up against Arthur's arse and coming down Arthur's thigh.

"What do you call that, then?" Arthur asks later, when they're cleaning themselves (and the console) up.

"Doctor's orders," Matt says with a smirk, tapping the side of his nose. They walk out to where the crew is waiting for them to start filming.

"Cheeky bastard."


End file.
